


Isolated Thoughts

by bodhirookandor



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, and cassian is perpetually stressed out, and they love each other, anyhow i love them, bodhi goes through shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9934448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookandor/pseuds/bodhirookandor
Summary: Whenever Bodhi thought about soulmates, he thought about love and warmth and protection.





	

**Author's Note:**

> An anon sent me an ask about soulmate aus a while ago and I wrote this. Tw for pain and death and torture and you know the drill. Rogue One ain't happy. Hmu on my tumblr bodhirookandor if ya wanna talk about these two guys in love.

When Bodhi thought about soulmates, he thought about his parents. He thought about the way they’d smile at each other, the way they’d hug and laugh softly at jokes neither he nor his siblings understood. He thought about the way they’d sometimes finish each other’s sentences, the love that would permeate the room whenever they were there. Whenever Bodhi thought about soulmates, he thought about love and warmth and protection. 

 

He thought about family and safety and home. 

 

When the Empire came, and took away his father, ripped apart his family and tried to destroy his mother, Bodhi thought about resistance. Saw it in the way his mother broke apart at night, only to remake herself in the morning. He thought about the nights she spent talking to herself (talking to his father), trying to comfort him and be comforted at the same time. He thought about the sort of love and devotion they had towards one another. Thought about the agony it caused them to be apart. And a part of him, the child that feared change and loathed depending too much on others, rejected this. Hoped that this would never befall him. The other part of him, the one that spent many nights curled against his mother and listened to her explain the connection between her and his father, the part of him that swore he could feel the love between them, yearned to have someone like that for himself. 

 

It never actually changed, this yearning to have someone understand him, understand the choices he made as he grew older. Someone who would know why he enlisted, and wouldn’t judge him for it. He wished, although he felt it was futile, that his soulmate, whoever they were, would never look at him the way his family did after he came home with the imperial insignia on his new uniform.

 

Bodhi wished, but he could never ever shake the guilt and self-hate that settled over his body like a second coat. He wished, hoped, believed, but he understood that he’d become a part of the very same monster mothers would warn their children about. Bodhi told himself he was fine with that. Told himself that it didn’t matter to him (that he didn’t really matter) as long as his family survived, as long as they were okay. 

 

He told himself these things, empty platitudes and justifications, so he wouldn’t fall into despair. 

 

***

 

His mother’s lectures and his father’s stories had never actually prepared him for the reality of the Empire. Everything was strict, following a rigid set of rules where deviation brought swift retaliation and defiance brought death. Bodhi, who grew up on beliefs of speaking up for himself, who listened ardently to stories of rebellion and Jedha Resistance, found it difficult to temper himself. His passionate belief in his home, of the Force, of resistance and culture, brought swift punishment. He was too much; too proud, too intelligent, too mouthy, too _Jedha_ , and the Empire was hard pressed to get it out of him. Until him. Until a man, a monster, dressed in black and capable of wielding the Force, rose from the darkness and showed him how terrible the Force could really be. Until the man who twisted the Force, twisted something Bodhi truly believed in and worshiped, to suit his needs, threatened his family. 

 

Bodhi learned how to quiet himself. He learned how to keep his head down and close his mouth. He learned, like all imperial employees, to look the other way while destruction was happening. He curled in on himself, tucked his ferocity and protectiveness inside steel walls and cement. He acted the part of a weak willed imperial employee, slipping under the radar and becoming just another face in the Empire. And it worked.

 

Until Galen Erso saw through it and systematically destroyed every single one of his carefully built walls. The man was methodical, coming to Bodhi like clockwork, establishing a relationship between the two of them until Bodhi couldn’t remember how long they’d been friends, colleagues. If someone asked Bodhi how long he’d known Galen, he’d say years. Galen had become a close friend, a confidant who had learned all of Bodhi’s secrets and divulged his own, except for one. Bodhi, after their fiftieth conversation (he had counted), had finally worked up the courage to ask if Galen had a soulmate. Seeing the way the man’s face twisted with raw agony and rage, Bodhi wondered if it would’ve been best to not ask him at all.

 

“That,” Galen had told him, his hand shaking, although neither of them would ever acknowledge it, “is a story for another time.” Bodhi never brought it up after that.

 

***

 

It was because of him that Bodhi learned of the Planet Killer. It was because of him that a spark of his rage, his protectiveness and ferocity was ignited. He defected, holding an encrypted device in one hand and his hope in the other, and made his way to Saw Gerrera. 

 

There’s something to be said about the emotions that curdled in his stomach the minute the sack was pulled off his face and Bodhi came face to face with Saw Gerrera. The man had taken one look at him, breathed deeply from his oxygen tank (the sound had triggered a flashback and Bodhi could do nothing to stop the harsh flinch and shuddered gasp that came out of his mouth) and whispered “Bor Gullet,” sentencing him to torture and a lifetime of recovery. 

 

Bodhi couldn’t tell you how long he’d been strapped to that chair, his mind ripped apart by a purple monster. He couldn’t explain the feeling of his memories being torn to shreds, flung into empty holes in his mind, never to be recovered again. He couldn’t even begin to articulate how it felt like his emotions were being sucked out of him, piece by piece by a tentacle monster. He couldn’t tell you anything about how long he’d been there, tortured for information that he’d already given up willingly. Large chunks of him were lost, but Bodhi couldn’t tell you what.

 

Not for a long time.

 

He sat in an empty cell, eyes unseeing as memories flashed across his eyes. Some of them disappeared behind the newly created holes in his mind, others just sort of bounced around and Bodhi tried to fix things. He tried to patch them up, attempted to erect something so that he could try to bring some sort of order. But for every hole he fixed and every memory he recovered, another three would be gone. He sat in that cell, hours bleeding into days, days transforming into months, months becoming years. It felt as though a whole millennium had passed before he heard it. 

 

‘Is this him?’ A voiceless entity questioned, hopeful and doubting all at once. Bodhi twitched once, before stilling, half wondering if he’d asked himself that question.

 

“Are you the pilot?” The same voice asked, only this time, the sound reached his ears. Bodhi twitched again and looked up, his eyes locking with surprised brown. The man was in the other cell, only his face and hands visible. Something stirred in his mind, a sort of buzzing in his ears and Bodhi closed his eyes to stop it. 

 

“Does the name Galen Erso mean anything to you?” Brown Eyes asked, urgent and painfully hopeful all at once. Bodhi didn’t answer, his breathing short and his hands fidgeting along the front of his imperial suit.

 

‘Please,’ Another thought surfaced in his mind and Bodhi truly wished it would stop, wished he could understand why it felt so significant. He wished he had the capacity to understand why he wanted to wrap himself in that voice, to comfort it and be comforted in turn. He wanted to  _know_. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Because a part of him had been knocked off course and he couldn’t think past the pain in his skull.

 

“Are you the pilot?” Brown eyes asked again, his voice just shy of demanding, “are you the man that Galen Erso sent? Did you bring the message?” Bodhi twitched, something slotting into place within him and he almost sobbed.

 

‘Yes,’ he thought, relief washing over him, ‘I’m the pilot.  _I’m_  the pilot.’ He opened his eyes and smiled at Brown Eyes, noting the man’s slightly open mouth and furrowed brow. He smiled again, although it was a weak and limp thing, barely curling around the edges of his lips.

 

“I’m the pilot,” he whispered, nodding his head, “I-I brought the message from Galen Erso. I’m the pilot.  _I’m the pilot_.” Bodhi wasn’t sure who he was reassuring, himself or the man in front of him, but he couldn’t help but repeat that to himself. He couldn’t help but chant it softly in his mind, if only to instill within himself an ounce of the courage and determination he was sure he’d once possessed. 

 

“You’re the pilot,” Brown Eyes stated, his face sure and soft, “Bodhi Rook. I’m Cassian Andor.” Everything began to shake around them, stopping whatever else Brown Eyes (Cassian) was going to say next. Bodhi stared around him as Andor disappeared (most likely attempting to escape in the chaos). He sat for a second, counting down from twenty until he slowly rose on unsteady feet and made his way to the cell doors. Two men stood before the cell doors, one of them shouting at him to move out of the way and blasting it open. Bodhi found himself running behind them without much thought, his survival instincts kicking in. He stopped the minute he stepped into the Jedha sun and witnessed the destruction of his home.

 

***

 

_When Bodhi was younger, his uncle Arun would always tell him stories about NiJedha. The man would come, ready and willing to explain the planet’s connection to the Force. The way it moved around everyone around here, and saturated the ground. The strength of the Kyber crystals and the way it reinforced the resilience of NiJedha and her people._

 

_“NiJedha is strong, the Force sits in the place, blooming in our crystals and imbuing the citizens with the strength to protect it. We are Jedhans Bodhi, be proud of that.” Uncle Arun had told him, brown eyes crinkling with his smile. Bodhi would always remember the way his orange beard looked in the sunlight._

 

_***_

 

Bodhi would never have moved, had it not been for Cassian shouting his name and grabbing his hand to run with him. He would have stayed there, rooted to the spot, watching with horror as his home, his family was destroyed in front of his eyes.

 

The two of them jumped into the waiting ship and Bodhi scrambled to the only other window, desperate to see what remained of his home. He didn’t say anything to the others around him, his mouth closed tight even as his soul screamed.

 

‘I did this,’ he thought, pain and disgust coiling within him, ‘I wasn’t fast enough and everyone is gone and I…’ Bodhi didn’t see the way Cassian jerked as if electrocuted and turned to stare at him. He didn’t see the way the man rose as if to go sit next to him, before deciding to remain where he was. Bodhi saw nothing beyond his self-hate and breathtaking grief, absently giving them information about how best to enter Eadu.

 

***

 

He found himself alone with Cassian once again as he showed him the path up the mountain. Bodhi found it interesting, with how short of a time he’d been near the man, how at ease he found himself around Cassian. He found it both interesting and frightening. The buzzing in his ears and the frantic fluttering of his thoughts would quiet in his presence, slow down enough that Bodhi could actually _think_. He didn’t understand it, didn’t know if he wanted to. But he didn’t deny how nice it felt to be near him.

 

“How long had you been with Gerrera?” Cassian had asked, after the fourteenth time (Bodhi had counted) tripped over his own feet. He reached out to steady him, his hand warm against Bodhi’s back and it was all he could do to not sink into it.

 

“A while,” he had said, shrugging.

 

‘Too long,’ he thought, thinking back to a purple monster and the man’s harsh breathing. Cassian nodded once, and a small almost breathtaking smile had spread across his lips. Bodhi couldn’t help but stare.

 

“Must’ve been a helluva time.” Cassian whispered.

 

‘You’re so brave,’ a voice sighed in his mind, awed and humbled all at once. Bodhi blinked and the moment was broken between them, both remembering the mission at hand. The two of them resumed walking, Bodhi trying to keep his mind focused on the mission, but failing.

 

***

 

When Bodhi was younger, he used to sit across the street from the Temple every day and stare. He never went in, not without his family anyhow, but Bodhi liked to sit on the overturned rocks in front of the Temple, close his eyes and just feel. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he could feel something that he was almost completely sure was the Force. It was warm, inviting and invigorating all at once. Swirling and dancing along the air and seeping and collapsing into the ground, it permeated the space around him. Bodhi could feel it swishing around and through people. There was a sort of distinct flavor that surrounded everyone, telling their stories and characters for any that would listen.

 

***

 

As he stood there and listened to Cassian’s feeble excuses to leave him alone at the top of the mountain, Bodhi was reminded of those times. Those times where he would sit and make up stories for people based purely on those flavors. He stood there for a second, before closing his eyes.

 

“I can look by myself,” Cassian snarled, all sharp angles and rough determination.

 

‘I don’t want to do this, but I have to.’ His thought pleaded Bodhi to understand. The Force, moved chaotically around him, bitter yet resolute. Bodhi almost choked before he schooled his features. He opened his eyes and stared hard at Cassian.

 

“I know this is war,” Bodhi began, his eyes boring straight into Cassian's, “and I know in war we have to do things we don’t approve of. I get it. All I’m asking you is if you feel like this is the right thing. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this.” Bodhi whispered, before turning away and heading back down. He and Galen had already talked about the possibility of the either of them dying. What they would do if they witnessed the other’s death.

 

***

 

_“If there comes a time where I will die Bodhi, I need you to not interfere,” Galen told him, his eyes attempting impress this importance onto him._

 

_“Why?”_

 

_“I’ve lived my life. I’ve done horrible things. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I have been waiting for death since the day they took me away from my family.”_

 

***

 

Cassian came back, Jyn in tow, making his choice and standing up for himself in the face of Jyn’s anger. Bodhi would have gone to defend Cassian had the man not so subtly shook his head and defended himself. He nodded once and settled back down, his hands fluttering along the front of his imperial suit.

 

Galen had died. Not by Cassian’s hand no, but by the Empire’s. Bodhi couldn’t help the surge of rage and despair that overtook him. It left him breathless and more than a little off balance. He closed his eyes, tucking his hands into his armpits and bending down low. It was one thing to know what his friend’s plans were. It was a completely different thing to see them realized.

 

He attempted to swallow past the lump in his throat and only half succeeded. Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder and Bodhi looked up at the man’s concerned brown eyes. He attempted to smile, but it was a broken thing, jagged and cut off at the edges. Cassian frowned and the hand on his shoulder rubbed his back.

 

Bodhi almost sobbed.

 

***

 

The Rebels had chosen not to fight against the Empire. Some of them going so far as to opt for neutrality. A part of Bodhi, the one raised in an occupied home, the one whose blood sang Jedha Resistance and rage, the part of him that had only been pushed back, never destroyed, sneered in disgust. The other part of him, the one that had been torn down and jittery, could see the merit in backing off. But all of him didn’t see that as an option.

 

He was a Jedhan, proud and resilient and he just saw his home destroyed. There was no doubt in him. Bodhi was going to fight.

 

A voice in his mind, the one he’d been hearing since the moment he met Cassian, wholly concurred. Bodhi almost grinned when he saw Cassian standing in front of him and Jyn, a dozen soldiers and spies behind him.

 

“I couldn’t face myself if I gave up now,” he had said, his eyes flickering to Jyn before resting on him.

 

‘I want to try this, with you.’ The thought swirled around Bodhi’s skull, and Bodhi knew it wasn’t his. He swallowed and stared back at Cassian as the man silently nodded at him.

 

***

 

They would depart in three hours, which didn’t give either of them much room to talk. Each one had their own agendas to achieve in the short time frame. They had thirty minutes to themselves, sitting in the ship before the others arrived.

 

“I’m-”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You-”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you think we can?”

 

“I hope so.”

 

Bodhi held out his hand, a shy smile twitching on his lips. Cassian stared at it for a moment, his face a complication of emotions that Bodhi was hard pressed to understand. He looked up, his eyes shining with such vulnerability it took Bodhi's breath away. Slowly, the man held out his own hand, interlocking their fingers. Bodhi pressed a soft kiss onto the man's knuckles, a silent promise for the both of them.

 

***

 

They arrived onto Scarif and the mission takes hold. They shared one look, a myriad of emotions and thoughts passing between them and then they’re separated. Bodhi worked on his end, relaying false information to the Empire and attempting to keep them off their trail. His hands flew over control keys as he intercepted information and worked as much as he could to clog the intelligence information being broadcasted to other imperial workers. Cassian asked him to find a way to broadcast to the Resistance and Bodhi set up a way to do that too.

 

A bomb clattered into the ship and Bodhi took a second too long to stare at it, process what it meant, before he threw himself out of the ship and onto the sandy beach. He groaned, once, twice, three times, blood and the smell of burning flesh making him nauseous. Bodhi didn’t remember much of what happened afterwards. Didn’t remember the strong hands that grabbed him, nor the hissed shout of his name. He didn’t remember piloting the ship, grabbing as many people as he could before leaving Scarif. All he remembered was the bomb, the sound it made as it clattered to the floor. All he remembered was thinking about Cassian and how typical it was for him to have finally found him only to be ripped away from him.

 

***

 

He awoke to bright white and pain. His chest heaved as he attempted to breathe around his panic. A hand appeared in his line of vision and Bodhi flinched hard before groaning.

 

“Hey there, pilot,” an incredibly soft voice whispered, “I thought I lost you for a second there.” Cassian’s hand caressed the side of Bodhi’s face that wasn’t covered in bandages, the word too shaky to be casual.

 

‘Don’t leave me please,’ the thought trickled out of Cassian and seeped into Bodhi’s skin. He breathed once, the pain reminding him that he’s alive.

 

“I don’t plan to, Brown Eyes,” he rasped, smiling at the soft laugh Cassian gave.

 

***

 

When Bodhi thought about soulmates, he thought about his parents. He thought about the way they’d smile at each other, the way they’d hug and laugh softly at jokes neither he nor his siblings understood. He thought about Cassian, about the way the man’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, his small smiles and soft eyes. He thought about his determination and his hope, the goodness that swirled around him even though he refused to see it.

 

Bodhi stared at Cassian as the man continued to chuckle, his smile small but genuine, and thought about family and safety and home. He thought about how lucky he was to find his soulmate and how thankful he was that he had more time to get to know him.

 

“What?” Cassian asked, noticing that Bodhi was staring at him. A hint of pink dusted across his cheeks and Bodhi smiled wider, even though it hurt his face to do so.

 

“Nothing,” he told him, his eyes crinkling with affection.

 

‘You’re beautiful and I can’t wait to know you,’ he thought.


End file.
